It’s Sunday morning. I guess the title kind of gave that awayalthough I could have written this on another day, and mis-titled it on purpose. That would have been a bit silly though, and I’m definitely never sillyyou can ask the children. Actually, maybe not.
Story of the morning so far; Slept in till 9 after staying up until 2am playing “Dirt 3” on the XBox 360. It appears I can only play it when everybody else has gone to bed because it gives W a headache (the constant roaring of engines), and any distractions usually result in my pretend car flying from the road and disassembling itself spectacularly. Downstairs in boxer shorts. Thankfully nobody came to the door before I got in the shower (as happened a couple of weeks ago, when a good friend popped round, and the kids let her straight in). Shower, shave, brush teeth. I hate shaving. It’s easily the most odious, annoying chore I have to complete each day in terms of personalhygiene. The stupid part is that I always feel much better after having a shave. Get dressed. Yesterday’s jeans and fleece top are still cleanjust a clean t-shirt needed. As I wander around the bedroom finding requisite items, W pretends to still be asleep but is most probably daydreaming with her eyes shut. Step into wellington boots, and wander up the garden to let the chickens out. One of them has somehow managed to do a collosal dump in the water. Fantastic. Their stupidity never ceases to amuse and entertain me. They show flickers of craftiness from time to time, but mostly they are the most stupid animals I’ve ever experienced. Back to house, and find Miss Seven stretching in her pyjamas next to the cupboard where the breakfast cereals are kept. She busies herself over the next few minutes with carrying the morning’s menu choices to the dining table in the loungeapparently today’s specials are Cheerios, and some kind of caramel laden junk with a lion on the box. Kitchen cleared, kettle on, coffee made, and I wander into the study to sit here and write this (trying to force the whole blogging thing). Last FM is pumping out of the speakerssome bizarre radio mix of Ingrid Michaelson, Christina Perri, and Katie Voegel. I’m half tempted to go off in search of some of the music playingto add it to my iPod, which is in desperate need of some different music.
I guess I should get off my ass in a minute, and go “encourage” the kids to get dressed, have a wash, brush their teeth, brush their hairand hope it doesn’t turn into gladitorial combat like it did yesterday.